


Night Rides

by zimxrmxn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Pining, Racing, Raven Cycle - Freeform, Super Mild, drag racing, joseph kavinsky - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, ronan lynch - Freeform, trc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimxrmxn/pseuds/zimxrmxn
Summary: A small prose about Ronan and Kavinsky's relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (This can also be found on fanfiction.net) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12122322/1/Night-Rides - link  
> under the name zimmxrman

Ten seconds.

Five seconds.

Three seconds.

The cross light turned red.

One second.

Green.

Foot hammered to the gas.

Hands clenched the wheel.

The jolts of horses under the hood brought Ronan to life.

This was where he belonged. Racing on the streets of Henrietta.

Ronan was a king. But so was Kavinsky.

Ronan was powerful behind the wheel of his father's BMW. He was dangerous. That's what Kavinsky craved, danger. Ronan Lynch.

Kavinsky was explosive, he was a risk to everyone in a ten-mile radius. That's what Ronan loved about Joseph Kavinsky. He was a bomb, just like Ronan.

When they fought they went to war. An onslaught of burning tires and glaring headlights.

Their battleground was the twists of highway, the rolling hills and deep valleys.

Tonight was one such night.

Pushing into fourth gear Ronan could taste victory on his lips. It wasn't until the final corner that Ronan released his breath.

Prowling to a halt Ronan unrolled his window waiting for his opponent to do the same. Kavinsky never did.

The white Mitsubishi skidded abruptly as if Kavinsky was still debating if he really wanted to stop.

Through the tinted glass Ronan could still see Kavinsky's features. Slim jaw and hollow cheeks. It was easy to tell Kavinsky wanted a rematch.

Taking his keys out Ronan deserted his car in favour of the Mitsubishi. Slamming the passenger side door Ronan awaited Kavinsky's first move.

"Lynch."

"Joseph."

They pounced. 

Teeth on lips, sweat on skin.

Clinging, clawing desperately trying to get a taste.

They were wild animals, aiming to kill.


End file.
